Call Me Captain
by joelle-sama
Summary: Why does Tréville suddenly finds himself attracted to Aramis? And why Aramis would prefer the company of an older lover? Co-written with my good friend Citosol, we explore how these two unexpected partners develop their relationship. English is not our first language, so please let me know if there are any mistakes!
1. Chapter 1

**Sugar Daddy**

It all started on one regular day…

Bored of his paperwork, Tréville had moved away from his desk and gazed lazily through the large window of his cabinet. In the sun-filled court of his hotel, Aramis and Athos were fencing, practicing their sword techniques while joking and chatting together. The captain was watching their exchange, half-hypnotized by the fluid movements of his two best men. Men? Tréville smiled: although he had been unsure of his decision at first, regarding the enrollment of Aramis in his troops, he had now to admit that the blond woman was quite an useful addition in his ranks. He understood her thirst for revenge,- a visceral burnt he often felt himself - and deeply admired her for that. She was talented, thoughtful, and-

Cut in his thoughts, he saw Athos losing his balance and falling to the ground. Aramis jumped on the occasion to straddle him before threatening him with a dagger, its cold blade pressing against his throat.

 _"Haha!"_ the older man thought, amused. _"This little woman surely knows how to ride a man!"_

But what should have been only a macho's comment soon turned into something totally different...In a flash, erotic images of his female musketeer passed in Tréville's mind. He shook his head, wanting to rapidly chase away those perverted thoughts… He looked again through the window : the two soldiers had their positions switched, Athos now on top of Aramis, pinning her down under his weight, now being the one menacing with his weapon.

Tréville blinked numerous times and vigorously shook his head once more. Athos and Aramis were nicely assorted…a perfect young couple. The captain started to wonder if Athos, Porthos, or any of his men, would fall in love with Aramis if they ended up knowing the truth about her. And even if they would not know, Aramis was posing as a gorgeous man after all. Counter-nature relationships, although kept tightly secret, were quite common…

 _Get a grip, Treville!_ he scowled himself. He sighed. What was happening to him? Did not he willingly embrace a heavy military career to avoid the burden of a wife and a family to take care of? But what kind of woman would accept the theorical life of a wife, but the practical one of a widow, since he was too busy to even go back home after his hard days of work? He had even settled himself a comfortable bedroom directly at the barracks, not even caring that he was slowly abandoning his mansion in the outskirt of Paris.

Of course, meeting with the girls of Madame Morand could be a solution... Tréville liked young women…But, first, he had some honor to maintain; it would ruin his reputation if he was found in such a brothel. And second…quite frankly he was slightly disgusted by the fact dozen of men took those girls before him. No. Being the possessive kind, he wanted a woman for himself, and himself only. He thus made the choice to have a mistress…She was one he was really confident about, a girl who was not babbling about his love life openly; The king – who he knew to be pretty chaste – would not be so pleased otherwise.

He had been seeing Countess Rosalie for a quite a while now : a lovely widow in her early thirties, with a peachy-tinted face framed with chestnut curls, a generous chest, a fine waist and curvy hips…Everything the beauty canons of his era could dream about. But lately, Tréville found himself being bored of the life she was offering him. Gone were the belly butterflies of the first moments, the excitement of the first rendez-vous, the kisses, the lovemaking…Rosalie was already into another sphere of their relationship, wishing for tenderness - and a second wedding-, while it was something Armand de Treville was simply not believing in, for he never been deeply in love with her. In his practical eyes of a soldier, he could not phantom things that would not give him anything concrete back…and from judging the reasons why married people so often took lovers, he concluded that marriages meant the end of passion, desire, need…and sex.

Aramis swept the sweat off her forehead with the back of her sleeve, mentally praising God for making her a woman, thus being able to easily hide her excitation. Fencing with Athos was an exercise she liked a lot…and being caught against his body every time he won the fights – which meant all the time – was nicely disturbing. She could not deny that Athos was one of the most handsome man she had seen, but…

She sighed. As weird as it may seemed, Aramis counted the years separating her from her older friend: only six years. What does a man could know about a woman, if he was not much older compared to her? Francois had been a dozen years older than her, and what he showed her proved that a man _needed_ to be experienced if he wanted to please his lady; the younger pretendants her family introduced her were not as distinguished, well-mannered or simply not as thoughtful as could have been an older man like François.

And Athos, on top of that? A man who seemed to enjoy more the company of his books than women…? Of course he seemed pretty skilled in every activity he did, but she had never seen him with a lady.

Athos with a woman... of course his astonishing blue eyes, his deep voice, his firm body, his big hands...everything of him was made to catch the attention of the females, but it seemed, in Aramis' mind, he never used those weapons in his whole life.

Beside, she could not tell Athos her secret, could not she? Then what would be the point of wasting her feelings on a man she could not even be with? He was a great man to daydream about, but her logical mind refused to drift passed the mere phantasms.

 _To be continued!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Aramis was fuming. _He_ had won again.

It was incredible how Athos always succeeded in defeating her. He seemed to be always a step ahead his opponent: a moment before she was thinking she won, the moment later she was pinned on the ground by the weight of his handsome colleague.

That's why Aramis started spending her evenings practicing with the sword. Damned Athos, sooner or later she'd have ended the duel on top of him!

With these thoughts in mind, the young woman headed to the training room. Dusk was already about to set in, and she was hoping to beneficiate from the daylight before it was too dark to do anything. Passing her evenings in that room was almost a second life for Aramis : determined to be able to beat Athos at least once in her life, she trained herself alone each day, practicing her fencing movements over and over again.

After a good hour of work, Aramis stripped off from her jacket, leaving her shirt half open: nobody was around at that time, so no one could have seen the bandage peeping out from it. To make the picture complete, she tied back her hair in a tight queue that left her neck totally exposed, giving her some freshness.

She paused for a moment to catch her breath. Standing still, she looked around the room. Numerous swords, daggers, axes, wood sticks, crossbows, were disposed over the walls. In a corner, the muskets were stacked in a clean pile….Aramis inhaled profoundly, a proud smile on her lips: she knew how to manipulate all these weapons. She worked hard, and she succeeded in becoming a soldier. She knew if she worked a little harder, she could manage to become the _best_ musketeer!

Her spirit prepped up, she started practicing again, deeply concentrated in her exercises…

Now clad only with her pants and white shirt, she was much free of her movements, but also did not have to suffer from the heat she was usually forcing herself into every time she had to conceal her feminine body to her comrades, despite the warm weather.

...

That evening, Tréville was finally going home after a long day. Maybe he could pay a visit to Rosalie, before his absence turned into rudeness? Catch some flowers on the way to her home, or maybe a jewel…

He was walking along the dark corridors of his palace, lost in his thoughts, when he heard a distinct clangor of metal coming out from the training-room.

He opened the door slightly, making sure it didn't creek, and saw his musketeer Aramis making elegant moves while fencing: two steps ahead, lunge, two steps back, parry... the captain didn't want to disturb her, so he silently backed off and moved to leave when a sudden idea crossed his mind: how come he hadn't noticed that thing immediately? With her hair up and her jacket gone, Aramis was definitely a sight…

All of a sudden, he didn't feel like going home anymore. He had watched Aramis dueling with Athos many times and he had always thought she was pretty good…

An unwise idea popped up in his mind.

Normally the chief of the musketeers didn't lower himself in practicing with his men, but this evening they were alone, and he was really curious about this young woman and her free spirit, so he decided to enter the training-room.

« Do you need some help? » a deep, male voice said behind Aramis.

Taken by surprise, she gasped and spun around, making her blond mane flow in her back. She felt her heart sinking, afraid that her female identity could have been disclosed, even though she was still wearing those tight bandages around her chest. Who could still be at the barracks, at this time of the day? She then sighed in relief as she saw her captain approaching her, but she still rushed to get her doublet to put back on.

Tréville raised his hand to stop her. « No need to do that… »

Aramis smiled lightly. Of course, he knew of her secret; she didn't need to hide from him.

« I saw you were training, » he kept on. « And I could really use to do some fencing as well…Would you mind if I help you? »

She blushed, but the size of her smile contradicted with her embarrassment; was her superior really offering to spar with her? Immensely flattered by this unusual offer, she eagerly accepted, trying not to let him see too much of her happiness. Beside, this was the perfect occasion to prove him she was worth his trust.

She turned around to take a couple of steps back and leave the man some space. But when she faced him again she suppressed a gasp of pure surprise; Tréville had removed his own doublet, and even through the fabric of his white shirt, she could see his perfectly defined muscles: his thick neck, his broad shoulders, his flat abs, his strong arms… Aramis never thought the man was hiding such a gorgeous body, despite his old age.

Old?...He was _just_ forty-something years old, after all.

Treville saw her blush and suppressed a little confident smile: he knew the effect he usually had on women when they saw him without his uniform. He remembered the facial expression Rosalie adorned every time he was taking off his coat…or when she was deliberately offering to remove his doublet: her dilated pupils, her flushing cheeks, the goose bumps on her skin and even, when he was joining her late at night, her hardening nipples perking through her nightgown.

But...

Tonight the woman he was strangely proud to fascinate was Aramis... Treville thought.

there was something "wrong" in that feeling: the superiority he had over her was not to be taken advantage of…right? But was it really his position as captain that was causing a problem? Or more the fact that it was hard to deny the attention of a young woman who, driven by feelings of vengeance, discarded her feminity, thus should not be shaken by his sight?…

Shaking his head, he put aside his ruminations and took position. "On guard, musketeer!" he said, pointing his sword toward her.

Aramis mirrored his moves and touched Treville's sword lightly as a small metallic sound echoed gently between the walls of the training room, giving the signal for the duel to begin.

The exchange that started was fluid and elegant. The man now understood why Athos had such a hard time in beating Aramis with his sword only. The young woman was gifted by an unnatural combination of skills, agility and precision in her movements that puzzled every opponent expecting a duel based on strength and vigor.

In addition, the spectacle of a beautiful woman undertaking the most of her abilities to beat him was something that amused and excited him simultaneously. More than once he realized he wanted to move an arm around Aramis' waist and bring her close to him in order to prove her who was the stronger of the two, as if they were not conducting a serious training with the sword, but a game of seduction; every time, the determination flashing in the blue eyes of his blond soldier brought him back to reality. He also found himself wondering if the same thing happened to Athos when dueling with her, before he remembered that no one in the barracks, apart from himself, knew who Aramis really was.

A new and sudden feint from Aramis made him lose his balance and, by a whisker, Treville almost dropped his sword as well; that was quite an useful technique in Aramis' hands, and she mastered it very well! Athos was doing a great job with her, teaching her how to capitalize on her own strengths and taking advantage of them. The captain resolved to praise his veteran for this success as soon as possible.

After a while the captain noticed he was way too happy to be in the same room with a half-dressed Aramis, fencing with her. He had to put an end to this training as soon as possible, before he desired to show her much more than one or two techniques with his weapon. He then used the only thing he had in abundance compared to Aramis : physical strength. A cheap shot, he thought. He knew she was no match for him, or any other man, regarding this matter.

While throwing his weight against her body and making Aramis lose her sword by playing on her wrist, he thought that what he was doing was the same thing every time, invariably, Athos also did when he wanted to end the duel with her. And, just like Athos, he found himself pinning a disarmed Aramis beneath him, while the blue-eyed woman looked up, stupefied.

He froze as he thought of the ambiguous position they were in, half dressed, both panting in exertion. A newcame spectator would have thought they looked much more like they were just performing a totally different exercise than a simple training…

 _Raise_ …he mentally screamed to himself. _RAISE_!

"Well ... good job, musketeer," muttered Treville with a well-concealed embarrassment, quickly getting up on his feet and releasing her body. "It's been a good battle ..." He then held out his hand, helping her to stand up.

Aramis rearranged her shirt, which slightly opened during the latest skirmish, but before she had time to reply anything, the captain had already collected his jacket and sheath and was leaving the room.

She snorted. It always ended that way. Her opponents, acting with brute force, always managed to snatch the sword off her hands.

One thing had surprised her though, and it was that Treville pinned her to the ground and captured her body under his. From Athos, it was expected: he thought he had to do it with another man, and that he had to take advantage of the short time frame following the disarmament to lock his opponent's arms and legs before he could use them against him…

But the captain? Treville knew he wasdoing it with a woman; he also knew she

did not have any hopes with her bare hands against him. Then why did he need to pin her on the floor?

Shaking her head in incomprehension, Aramis absently picked up her things and left the barracks. As she walked toward her house, a small smile on her lips, she found herself thinking of the pleasant sensations she felt when she and her superior had their bodies pressed together. If she somewhat liked to be cornered by Athos, she was surprised to discover she liked as much – if not more – to feel Treville's muscular body against hers. She was amazed by her captain's grey eyes on her, his strong hands grabbing her wrists, his legs intertwined with hers to prevent her from moving…

She swallowed hard: she should not think too much about it. It was just a regular training. Nothing more than a proof that she should consider working on ways to escape tackling attacks.

But it was hard to ignore the happy tingles in her stomach…

...

The large wooden door of Countess Rosalie's house opened with a cracking noise. In the small opening of the door-frame, a maid eagerly greeted Treville as soon as she recognized him. Cheerfully calling her mistress, she ran toward the entrance hall's stairs to inform the countess that she had a visitor.

"Armand! What a surprise!" welcomed Rosalie, pure joy painted on her face, as she leaned on the ramp of the first floor. Looking down lovingly at her lover for a moment, she hurried to join him downstairs. "I missed you!" she said in a soft tone after letting him kiss her hand.

"I missed you too, countess…" the man responded without thinking about the words he just pronounced.

She giggled and took his hand. "Shall we head to the salon?" she said, a kinky smile slowly rounding up her cheeks. "Oh, Jeanne, make us some tea, and bring some pastries…" she added toward the maid. "Tell me about your day, Armand…Oh, but before I have to tell you…"

Treville grinded his teeth and snorted gently, not paying attention to the petty gossiping of his mistress. For the longest time, he had been wondering what was going wrong about this relationship and he had just found the reason. It was not that he hated it, but he highly disliked to be called solely by his first name, 'Armand'. He couldn't explain why he thought it sounded condescending, although it was much better than the sugary pet names some of his companions had – Treville shuddered at that thought.

In the first weeks, Rosalie always called him _Count_ , or M _onsieur de Treville_ , which, thinking about it, he found much appropriate. He wasn't a man meant for familiarities, and he appreciated to keep a formal distance between himself and his interlocutors. But it was touchy to ask his lover to call him by a title that would create a gap between them…he knew perfectly this was not how things were supposed to work in a couple.

Then what?

 _Call me 'Captain'_ , he heard himself thinking as images of a long golden mane flashed in his mind.

Treville suddenly rose from the chair he was sitting on, walked toward the woman and pulled Rosalie up before dragging her quickly toward the bedroom.

He really had to stop being so engrossed about his work.

 **to be continued...hopefully!**


End file.
